The Stranger You Know
by anilkex
Summary: So my muse wanted a rescue story, with a twist. She was hoping for frantic Winchesters launching a major rescue in a bizarre situation. She also wanted angel yumminess, and I absolutely won't deny her that. Set in the Third Winchester AU. Rated T for a lot of things.


_**A/N: So. This is a "You Are The Third Winchester" story. Trust me. If you're not familiar with the verse, please check my profile.**_

_**Disclaimer: I like playing with other people's toys.**_

* * *

I finished pulling my hair into an elegant..._bunch?_ and secured it with a clip. I've gotten _really_ good at make-up and hair. I smoothed my cocktail dress, adjusting it slightly so the spaghetti straps weren't crooked. I studied my reflection.

He'll love it.

"Karalyn? Are you ready?"

Of course he'll love it. He always loves how I look.

"I'm coming, Charles."

Stepping out of the bathroom, I made my way down the hall to our bedroom, my heels clicking softly on the hardwood floors. I paused in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame in an attempt to appear alluring.

Charles was placing some items in his pockets, and caught sight of me from the ornate mirror on the wall.

"Oh…_oh my..._"

He slowly turned, eyes raking over me appreciatively. I blushed, ducking my head and smiling under his scrutiny. His lips slowly curved into a smile, and he sauntered over, absently buttoning his sportcoat. In a low, husky voice, he murmured, "You look absolutely ravishing."

I gazed into his eyes, and tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear. I still wasn't used to his compliments, especially their intensity. He placed a hand on my cheek, and pulled me close for a kiss. My heart flipped, as it always does when he touches me.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He fiddled with the pendant that hung from my neck, his expression thoughtful. "This is beautiful on you. I'm so glad you're wearing it. I never want you to remove it, Karalyn. Please remember that." His expression became very serious for a moment, worrying me. The pendant pulsed, and a warmth spread across my chest.

I covered his hand with mine, holding the pendant in place. "I won't, Charles. Whatever you want from me, you shall have."

He cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my face towards his. "You have no idea how that makes me feel." He kissed me again, with a bit more urgency this time, and I responded in kind.

I couldn't help it.

He reluctantly pulled away, humming a little, deep in his throat. "It's time to go. The others are waiting. We shall continue this...later."

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I settled for nodding instead. I reached past him and picked up my small clutch-purse, and wordlessly followed him out the door.

**xxxxx**

We arrived at the club quickly, our driver pulling to the curb to let us out. As I waited on the sidewalk for Charles, I noticed a gleaming, black car slowly drive by. It was long and sleek, promising numerous stories about its travels and occupants. Speaking of occupants, the driver was watching me, his green eyes completely focused on mine. It felt like he was looking straight into me, and the intensity left me a bit uncomfortable.

The pendant warmed, and I blinked, noting that Charles' hand was now on my elbow. His eyes followed mine, and a frown formed on his face.

"What is it?"

I smiled at his concern. Sometimes he asks me if I'm alright, and I need to assure him that I'm fine. I don't know why he asks - I'm always fine with I'm with him. "Nothing, sweetheart. Ready to go inside?"

He tossed one last look down the street before nodding in response. I had no idea what he's looking at, but I waited patiently until he firmly wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me to the door.

The guard was impossibly large, both in width and height. Charles murmured something at him, and the door was opened, allowing us inside. The lighting was dim, as usual, but there was plenty of activity.

People moved everywhere, chatting, drinking, eyeing each other. I always felt a little uncomfortable coming here - it seemed, I don't know, out of my league. But Charles was a member, and had various business dealings with many of the patrons, so I shoved my insecurities aside and made myself the perfect accompaniment.

Holding my head high, and keeping my back straight, I followed him through the throngs of people. I received a few curious stares from people I'd never met, as they tried to determine who I was. Charles always handled them, while I obediently stood at his side. Occasionally, the stares roamed and lingered, sometimes blatantly, other times from behind the rim of a martini glass.

Charles always handled those, too.

Tonight, he was looking for someone in particular. I didn't know who - he never shared his business with me. He gently maneuvered me through the crowd, making polite chit chat with patrons as we walked, his hand never leaving my back. In return for his guidance and reassurance, I maintained an air of confidence, both for his sake and my own. I refused to embarrass him by emitting an aura of self-doubt.

I was worthy of being on his arm, and everyone needed to accept that.

We changed direction, and he steered me towards the bar. Behind the counter, a bartender I hadn't seen before was vigorously drying a glass I was pretty sure had been dry moments ago. I was surprised that someone with unkempt floppy brown hair was allowed to pour the drinks. It was obvious that he tried to gel it into a smooth style, but pieces behind each ear stuck out wildly.

A man in an impeccable black suit was leaning against the counter, sipping a drink. He was handsome, but not like Charles.

_No one_ was like Charles.

He set his glass on the bar and stuck out his hand by way of greeting. "Hello, Charles. It's been a while. So good to see you."

I could feel the insincerity of his words, but didn't let that knowledge show. Inserting myself like that was not acceptable.

Charles shook his hand, a cold smile on his lips. "Hello, Nathan. Good to see you as well. Where is your...compliment?"

Nathan froze for a second, regained composure, and smoothly responded, "She's in the ladies' room." His eyes traveled to me. "And this is _your_ compliment?" He picked up my hand and brought it to his lips. "She is, indeed, lovely."

There was a small part of me that tsk'd over being discussed as an object, but a couple warm pulses emanating from my necklace settled me down. Instead, my thoughts turned to curiosity, and I wondered how Charles would respond. No one has ever been bold enough to touch me.

Charles' eyes darkened dangerously, but he didn't pull my hand from Nathan's grasp. His arm did tighten around my waist, though. "Yes, she is. On both accounts."

It didn't escape my attention that I wasn't introduced, but it wasn't my place to be so forward as to introduce myself. So, I stood there with a smile on my face, for Charles's sake.

"Amazing work, Charles. I may have to tip my hat to you on this one. Ah! Here's my Verena." A leggy brunette sauntered to the bar, planting a chaste kiss on Nathan's cheek before addressing us.

"Hello, I'm Verena." She pleasantly held out her hand for Charles with an expectant look on her face. I saw a muscle in his cheek twitch, but he took it, pecking the top formally.

"Very nice to meet you, Verena." There was a moment of awkwardness, as they waited for my introduction. Charles shifted, realizing he needed to share. "Karalyn, this is Verena and Nathan. Nathan is an..._old_ associate of mine."

I extended my own hand, smiling. "It's very nice to meet you, both," I said sincerely. Nathan's grip was firm, almost eager. I shook Verena's hand as well, which was limp and cold.

I took a measured breath, a flash of irritation washing over me. I was being polite, for Charles's sake. I felt the pendant's pulse, and noticed how Verena's dress was a really gorgeous shade of blue. I leaned into Charles, and smiled as his arm tightened around my waist.

Nathan noticed.

Turning to Charles, he smirked, "So well-behaved for one so young. She responds flawlessly." Barely looking at Verena, he drawled, "Go find someone to play with for a while. Charles and I need to talk."

Verena hesitated a moment before giving Nathan a vacant smile and wandering off. I watched her saunter off, making a note to comment on it to Charles, later. There was something about it that bothered me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Again, I felt a jolt from the pendant, and I thought we should ask Nathan and Verena over for dinner sometime.

Charles slid his hand up my back, resting it on my shoulder. He bent to gently press a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help it - I actually closed my eyes for a second when his lips touched me.

"I'll be back soon."

"I'll be here."

He smiled briefly. "I know." He glanced at Nathan, and his tone sharpened. "Let's go."

Nathan rolled his eyes. He quickly emptied his glass and returned it to the bar. "By all means, Charles, lead the way."

**xxxxx**

I somehow managed to climb into (onto?) one of the barstool seats. My dress was short and tight, not leaving much room for fluid movement.

_Or a way to discreetly hide a gun._

I blinked rapidly, wondering where that thought came from, and why I would even _think_ of carrying a gun. Warmth spread from the pendant, and I was suddenly aware of how cleverly the bottles of liquor were stacked behind the bar.

"Can I get you something?"

I spun my seat and smiled at the floppy-haired bartender, who finally put down that glass and was now leaning against the bar. He had an earnest look on his face, and he studied me closely. He must really want to make sure I get the drink I want.

"Thank you. I'd love a glass of moscato, please." I placed my purse on the bar and folded my hands neatly in front of me.

"Um...moscato...sure…" He got this blank look on his face as he frantically began hunting through the bottles on the shelves behind him.

The corner of my mouth lifted a little. I decided to help, albeit sardonically. "Check the refrigerator. Moscato must be chilled."

"Right! Absolutely! Because…" He fumbled with the handle on the small refrigerator until he successfully yanked it open. "Because, if it's not cold, it...um…" He moved around the bottles on every shelf until he found the desired bottle. Brandishing it aloft, as if it were a grand trophy, he announced, "because warm moscato tastes like shit, right?"

Grinning, he produced a wine glass and filled it to the rim. I covered my mouth with a hand, simultaneously trying not to laugh and figure out how to firmly correct him.

"What? You...want a bigger glass?" His brow furrowed, and the thoroughly confused look on his face was downright adorable.

And vaguely familiar.

A laugh escaped my lips and I smiled at him. "No - the glass is fine. You just shouldn't pour so much in it."

The bartender huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. He set the bottle down and gave me an apologetic look. "Right...I...I knew that. I'm sorry. I couldn't find the bottle, and I guess I was just...excited to have found what I was looking for." His voice softened at that last part, almost wistful. "I got a little...carried away."

He gave me this look that was...I don't know how to describe it. He had these hazel eyes that just bored into me. I felt almost lost in them, like they were pulling me somewhere.

My pendant pulsed, and I reached for my wine, craving a taste.

"Are you okay...um...ma'am?"

I blinked and shook my head as I picked up my glass and took a large sip. As usual, it was delicious. Swallowing, I widened my smile. "I'm fine. Thank you."

I was about to turn around and survey the crowds in other parts of the club, when the bartender spoke up. Again. "Are you sure? You looked like...maybe...maybe you were lost in a...memory?" I gazed back to him.

He looked hopeful.

Hopeful about what? I just met him, and I'm already with someone.

I sat up straighter (I didn't think that was even possible) and politely responded, "I'm fine, really." Trying to end the conversation, I swiveled my chair and surveyed the crowd as I waited for Charles to return. There was an almost inaudible sigh behind me.

I chose to ignore it. Many men sought my attention when we came here. It was best for both of us if the flirting didn't continue.

I was about to take another sip of wine when a young woman, blonde and cheerful, plopped onto (into?) the bar-chair next to me. She flashed me an enormous grin, that was warm and friendly. I found myself returning her smile.

"This is some place, huh? The people are something else! And the men! Whoo! If I weren't with my boyfriend, I'd be picking up a looker, stat!" She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Her enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming. I wasn't used to the women here being so...free. Still, I nodded in agreement and laughed with her.

"May I get you something..._ma'am_?" The bartender asked, a little insistently.

We both swung in our chairs towards him. I was a little shocked at his rude tone.

"Well, lookit you. I'd take you home in a heartbeat, _sweetheart_." His face turned beet red, making her laugh all the more. "I'll take a Miller Lite." Nodding tersely, he turned away to get her drink. She leaned towards me, almost conspiratorily. "I fucking love simple, domestic beer, you know? It's clean and honest, not bogged down in fancy crap." She sat up as the bartender brought her a chilled bottle. "Thanks, man!"

After a healthy swallow, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand (gross!) she stuck out her hand. "Hi! My name's Joanna Harvelle. What's yours?"

I set down my glass and took her hand in mine, more than amused at this girl before me. Unlike Verena, Joanna's handshake was firm and pleasant. "My name's Karalyn."

Her eyebrow rose at my name. "That's it? Just Karalyn? No last name?" Her gaze flickered towards the bartender as she took another swallow.

I blinked at her, opened my mouth, then closed it right away as I realized...I didn't have one. I got a little panicked, as I frantically searched my memory for something as simple as a last name. My pendant pulsed...and I thought, I don't _need_ a last name. As long as Charles is with me, a last name isn't important.

Joanna was watching me closely, so I regained my composure and replied, "No last name. Just Karalyn." Then I smiled.

Joanna laughed and took another sip of her beer. "So you're like Madonna, huh? How very cool and hip of you. You with anyone? My man is roaming around here somewhere." She vaguely waved her hand while rolling her eyes.

The bartender gently moved my wine closer to me before stepping away to help another customer, politely prompting me to take another sip. I glanced over my shoulder in the direction Charles had gone. "I _am_ with someone. He's with an associate right now, and should be back soon." There was something so completely friendly and open about this girl, that I found myself sharing more that just polite pleasantries. "He doesn't like to leave me alone for very long."

The wine was tasting _very_ good at this point; I'd consumed half that glass already. Something about chatting with this girl encouraged me to drink right along with her.

Joanna smiled and leaned close yet again, pointing at me with her beer. "Is he hot?"

I could feel a deep blush rise up my neck and to my cheeks as I thought of Charles...in bed with me, in the morning when we woke, any time he looked at me…

Joanna threw her head back and laughed. "Wow! You answered that without saying a word. I guess he's really good in bed, huh?"

I covered my mouth, trying to hide my smile. This really wasn't appropriate talk for a lady, and I knew Charles would disapprove, but I couldn't help but laugh along with this girl.

There was a crash behind the counter, and the bartender swore and bent over to clean up a mess he must have made.

Joanna flashed him a disgusted look before flapping her hand at me. "Aw, I'm embarrassing you. I'll stop with the twenty questions. I can't wait to see him, though. He must be treating you okay, huh?" Her eyes dropped to my pendant and she pointed to it with her beer. "Did he give you that?"

I played with my pendant, and the mirth of a moment ago was replaced by thoughtfulness. "He did, and yes, he treats me very well. He says I am a perfect compliment to him."

"A perfect compliment?" Joanna's face screwed up in confusion. "What does that mean?"

I shook my head. I had no idea what it meant - I just knew that's what I was. "I'm...I'm really not sure. I just know that I am his compliment, and I'm very good at it." I smiled at her, and took a huge sip of my wine.

Joanna nodded, considering my words. She was about to say something more, when a very young, blond man with blue eyes walked up to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. I tilted my head at him, figuring that this was her...man.

"Hi there, sweetie. Having fun?" Joanna chirped as she leaned over and gave him a lengthy kiss.

Which he totally returned.

And totally ended when the bartender cleared his throat loudly behind us.

They pulled apart, almost guiltily. He blushed. "Hi there, _honey_. Is this...your new friend?" Turning to look at me, he took in my appearance and gulped a little.

Joanna piped up. "Yes it is. Adam, this is _Karalyn_. Karalyn, this is Adam, my boyfriend."

Adam's gentle eyes seemed as open and friendly as Joanna's, but as he looked at me, they were tinged with a something else. Sadness? Worry? It was difficult to tell.

I held out my hand, which he shook. Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes off me and looked at Joanna. "Um...it's time to go. She's..._we've_...had enough to drink, now, and...yeah. _So_." Then he smiled.

Giggling, Joanna reached up and pinched his cheek. "Seriously, you are so fucking adorable. I can't stand it."

Adam glowed.

The bartender choked.

Joanna threw him a look as she slid off her seat. "Well, Karalyn, it was great to meet you." Standing in front of me, she stared into my eyes, and spoke in a serious tone. "I hope we see each other again. I'd...really like to hang out with you."

Before I could reply, Adam took her hand, gave me one last look, and they left.

**xxxxx**

I shook my head at the bizarre encounter, and traced the lip of my glass as I reflected on Joanna. She was so...interesting. I actually liked her, even though she was absolutely nothing like me. I wasn't forward, boisterous, and open like that. She radiated confidence with an ease I didn't feel.

I studied my arm, which was smooth and golden. Charles once told me I was covered in scars, both inside and out. He said he went to great lengths to remove them so I could begin a new life at his side.

Sometimes I wondered about my old life. There was no memory of it - not even a flicker. I frowned, searching hard to find something, _anything_, to tell me who I was beyond Charles's compliment. That line of thinking never got me anywhere, and always left me upset.

My hand automatically went to the pendant, but it lay quietly on my chest.

Sighing into my drink, I wondered when Charles would return.

"Karalyn."

Sighing again in relief, I slowly turned, and drank in the sight of him. He was close - I was so lost in thought that I didn't know he was standing right next to me. There was a slight frown on his face, and I knew he saw my _own_ frown, my own _thinking_.

I smiled, genuine and loving, reaching my hand up to his cheek. "I missed you, and was wondering where you were." That was all I said.

Apparently it was enough.

His frown slowly dissolved into a half smile, and he covered my hand with his. "I'm here, now. Let's go home and...finish what we started earlier."

**xxxxx**

I woke in his arms, our legs tangled together, and a sheet haphazardly twisted around our bodies. We both stretched languidly, and I felt like a cat in the sun. I was very aware of him - his smell, his breathing, his..._everything_. I traced the curve of his arm, the muscles in his neck. He shuddered and involuntarily twitched, bringing us closer together.

He rolled, pulling me on top of him. Our eyes met for a moment, before his mouth greedily met mine.

**xxxxx**

We usually shower together, but today, Charles cleaned up by himself. I was still on the bed, contemplating the morning. For the first time, despite gazing into Charles's gray eyes, intense blue ones called to me. Blue ones, attached to wings.

I couldn't make sense of it.

Last night I dreamt of that black car and the smell of leather, whiskey, and old books. It was as if a memory was just beyond my reach, and I couldn't get to it. Afraid that Charles would notice, I made every effort to distract both our thinking.

It worked.

Once we were both dressed and fed, Charles announced he was going to a meeting, and that I would remain home. He was very pleasant today, most likely a side effect of our recent activity.

"I won't be long. Stay here. We're going out tonight, but I'll be back in plenty of time for us to get ready."

I looked up from a magazine I was flipping through. "Are we going back to the club?"

Charles shook his head as he shrugged into a jacket. "No, somewhere...different. We're attending a ceremony." He looked at me. "I'll choose your attire when I return."

Smiling, I nodded and waved goodbye as he left the house. As soon as he was gone, I realized...I had nothing to do.

I wasn't really sure what I did when Charles wasn't home. For the first time, I was aware of being here without him. I couldn't remember other times when I'd been here without Charles nearby. I felt off - different - since we returned from the club last night. I felt more aware of my surroundings, and it left me a little uneasy.

Come to think of it, the pendant usually pulsed at moments like that, but now it lay quiet and cold against my skin. I played with it for a moment, torn between whether its lack of response was good or bad.

I decided it was good.

Aimlessly, I wandered through the house, smiling absently at the maid as she dusted and cleaned. I paused at the bay windows, and noticed two men on the estate grounds attempting to prune the hedges.

It wasn't going well.

Curious, I stepped outside. I casually approached, trying to look nonchalant. One of the men said something heated to the other, who stomped off towards the garage. Sighing, the remaining worker continued to attack the bushes.

He dragged a hand down his face and called to the other man as he turned around. "Bob-" The words stuck in his throat when he caught sight of me. I was used to men staring. But this was different. It wasn't lust in his eyes; it was a much different sort of longing.

Why were people looking at me like that lately?

Self-conscious, I swallowed and checked my hair. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to startle you." I began backing away, thinking this was a bad idea, when the man dropped his tools and raised his hands in an almost begging gesture.

"Nonono - it's...it's okay. I just...um...didn't see you there. Which...is really bad and sloppy of me, actually." He grimaced and ran a hand down his face again. I got the impression he did that a lot.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. "You seem...very angry at the plants."

He quickly glanced behind him at the hacked off branches. "Oh, well...yeah. They're...nothing's really cooperating today. I'm a little...frustrated with my lack of progress." He sighed and eyed be speculatively. "You're not really wearing much, are you?"

Taken aback, I looked down. I was in a tank top and shorts - exactly what Charles asked me to wear. Granted, the shorts were very short, and the top was...also short. But what could be wrong with it? "I - I'm wearing what I was told to wear. Why? Does it look bad on me?" I asked the question, but I knew the answer. Of course it looked good - Charles wouldn't dress me in something that looked bad.

The man shook his head back and forth vigorously. "Oh - no! I mean, you look great. It's just...what would your father say about you wearing something so...skimpy?"

I blinked at him. "I don't have a father. I just have Charles."

The man looked like I punched him. He took a deep breath and gazed upwards for a moment, absently nodding his head.

I instantly regretted my words, and took a step towards him with my hand outstretched. "I'm very sorry, John, I didn't mean to upset you."

His head snapped back towards me, a hopeful expression on his face. "You - you know my name?" He whispered urgently.

I raised my eyebrow and gestured at his uniform. "Well, that's what it says on your shirt, so…" I shrugged at him and smiled.

He pulled at his shirt until he saw the patch with his name on it. "Oh…" Crestfallen, he let it go and sighed ruefully. "What are the odds of that?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

"Are you alright?" I asked. I was a little concerned. If he was distraught, he probably shouldn't be doing yardwork. I was pretty sure Charles would fire him for doing a crappy job.

John gently smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm...I'm okay. Figures you'd ask me if I'm okay when you're the one…_*sigh*_."

He looked over my shoulder, focusing on something behind me. Slowly, I turned, spotting a man in the same type of uniform crossing the grounds towards us. I figured this was the same guy who stomped off earlier.

I stepped back. "Well. I don't want to keep you from your work. It was nice talking with you, John."

As I turned to go, the other man jogged closer, only to stop abruptly as his eyes scanned me up and down, a frown forming on his lips making the corners disappear into his beard. He held a bottle of cold water in his hands, which he pointed at me. "You need to - just - take - _Jesus_, cover up!" Huffing, he held out the water with one hand while the other fidgeted with his baseball cap. "Um, the people inside told me to give this to you."

The bottle waggled in front of me. He was breathing fast and made a point to avert his gaze, focusing on the ground instead.

I took the offered bottle, watching both men closely.

Clearing his throat, John said softly, "It's really warm out. You should probably take a drink."

I blinked at them, as if deciding what to do. Uncapping the bottle, I took a long swallow, draining almost a fourth of it in one pull, noting that both men intently watched me drink. Turning towards the house, I called over my shoulder, "Thank you." I sauntered back inside, listening to the capped man choke and sputter behind me, as John tried to placate him.

All I heard was, "At least she drank it."

**xxxxx**

Charles dressed me in a strapless evening gown, perfectly white, allowing the pendant to truly shine against my chest. I left my hair down tonight, at his request, soft ringlets curling down my back.

I felt Charles brush my hair aside and kiss my shoulder. "You're perfect. I cannot wait to show you to everyone this evening." His tone was smug, as if he'd won a contest that no one else knew about. He gently spun me until I faced him. He brought his forehead to mine, then pressed a kiss to my cheek.

As he pulled away, I found myself disappointed that green eyes and a mocking smile weren't in front of me.

Not wanting to broadcast the strange thoughts swirling unhindered in my head, I kept my expression neutral. I got the impression that tonight was important.

As we walked to the car, I scanned the area for the two men from earlier. I wasn't sure why, but I almost hoped they were around, although I knew they wouldn't be. Swallowing my sigh of disappointment, I climbed into the car, and watched the estate fade into the distance.

We parked next to an old, dilapidated building. I wrinkled my face and squinted out the window. Really? An old abandoned building for a super fancy ceremony?

_Prolly some trendy bullshit where it's all crappy on the outside but hipster on the inside._

The image of a handsome man, who drank a beer from one hand while throwing darts with the other invaded my mind. My hand flew to the pendant, but its warmth still didn't spread across my chest.

"Are you alright?" Charles was watching me closely.

_Be careful…_

The warning came unsolicited - I already knew I was treading on dangerous ground.

I plastered a smile on my face. "Of course - the building just looks a little…" I tilted my hand from side to side and made myself laugh all bubbly.

Charles chuckled. "Yes, it is a bit...unwelcoming...on the outside. That's to keep away uninvited guests. Come - you won't believe what's in store for you tonight."

The driver opened the door and we climbed out. My heartbeat stepped up a bit. Something was wrong - I could feel it. I scanned the area as I moved, searching for any signs of trouble, even though I wasn't sure what "trouble" would look like.

Charles held out his arm, and I cautiously slid mine through it. He smiled at me expectantly. "Ready?"

There wasn't a choice, I told myself. Or was there? I gazed up at him. This is Charles. _My Charles._ Everything is fine when I'm with him. I'm safe, right?

_Are you sure about that?_

This time, the voice in my head wasn't my voice or a vaguely remembered voice, it was clear and crisp and low and gravely and sexy and insistent and…

_Think carefully. Are you sure that safety is with this man? Are you sure you want to be with him?_

Doubt and uncertainty coursed through me. I opened my mouth to answer him. "I...I don't know…"

Charles froze, facing me. "What was that?" His expression unreadable, he tightened his grip on my arm. His lips moved and he muttered something in a strange language.

I pulled my arm free and took a tentative step backwards.

_Say it. If you don't feel safe, if you're unsure about anything concerning this man, say it now._

My breaths came in short pants, and I pawed at the damn pendant around my neck. While I didn't feel it's warmth on my skin, it chose now to throb wildly.

And it was freaking me the fuck out.

"I need to...um…" Frantically, I looked around for anyone to help me.

_Say it, Kate. Now!_

Blue eyes. Wings. Angel. _Castiel_.

Everything slammed into me - every memory from my life flooded my vision and my mind. I remembered my dad, my brothers, the Impala, Bobby...everything important to me.

And Charles was nowhere in that picture.

Glaring at him, I grated, "I don't want to be with you."

Charles's eyes darkened, and his mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "I'm sorry to hear that, my dear. Perhaps you need another reminder of your potential, and what you can achieve if you stay with me."

His arms rose into the air and he began to chant loudly in that weird language, causing that fucking pendant to burn against my skin.

I frantically looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. Suddenly, I felt and heard the flutter of feathers. Before he could utter more than a few words, Cas appeared with Dean, a gun pointed straight at Charles.

"She said to fuck off, asshole." Dean took two steps, punched him in the face, then fired two rounds point blank into his chest. Charles's back arched, and he let out a guttural scream that probably alerted everyone inside the warehouse to our situation if the gunshots didn't do that already.

The driver took off running. Dean spun and shot him before Charles even hit the ground.

The pain on my chest was getting out of control. I grabbed the pendant and stumbled back a couple steps. Cas was watching me closely.

"...Kate?"

I blinked at him, reaching out to steady myself on his arm. "I..._owwwww…_"

Suddenly, Dean was at my side, gripping my arms and searching my face as I sunk to the ground. "Hey...talk to me...hurts where? Your chest? Cas get this thing off her!"

Cas narrowed his eyes as he stared at the jewel. "I think it's - "

Before he could finish, the fucking thing sprouted five _legs_ and burrowed into my chest. _Deep_. Gasping, I fell to my knees. "Oh God...get it out..._get it out_…_Dean...please_..." I clutched Cas's trenchcoat (he was closer) and slammed my head against Dean's chest.

"Hold on…" Cas muttered, and I resisted the urge to throttle him. What the fuck else was I going to do? Knit?

"Humor is good, Kate. Keep thinking positively."

Now I _did_ throttle him - reaching up, I took hold of his neck. "_Get...it...out…_," I gasped and bent over, feeling something warm on my chest. Looking down, a crimson splotch was spreading slowly across the bodice of my gown.

"Oh _JesusFuckingChrist_, Cas, do something!" Dean's voice was full-out panic, and I was in total agreement.

Cas's hand hovered over the pendant, and he closed his eyes, concentrating. He spoke in my head.

_Kate...__**you**_ _have to pull it out. You have to be strong enough to remove it. Now - do it now._

Sobbing, I grabbed the pendant and pulled as hard as I could. Dean grunted, covering my hand with his.

"No, Dean, don't help her. She has to do this on her own. It's the only way to break its hold on her."

Dean swore very creatively under his breath, but kept his hand on mine. "C'mon, kiddo, you can do this...Sam's waiting for you...c'mon…" I swore he hiccupped at the end there, and the thought of Dean crying was the last fucking straw.

I yanked, making a guttural, grating noise in the back of my throat, then heard a sickening slurping noise as the damn thing pulled free. I slumped against my brother who took the pendant and primed his arm for throwing it across the lot. Cas reached up to still Dean's arm.

"Keep it. Your father will want to see it."

Dean huffed and shoved it at Cas. "Then you carry it. I don't want it anywhere near her." As he talked, he pulled his bandana from his back pocket and pressed it to my bleeding chest. "Get us out of here, Cas."

Nodding, Cas took hold of both our arms, and we blinked out of sight.

**xxxxx**

As soon as we blinked back to...wherever the fuck Cas took us, I was pretty sure that passing out was in my near future.

I could hear voices, all worried and panicked and chaotic. Blood was rushing in my ears and I pressed further against Dean, who held me tight against him.

Sticky warmth was spreading down my front, and I tried to convey this to Dean, but my mouth wasn't working.

Luckily my brain was (albeit barely), and Cas picked up on it.

Gently, he pried me away from Dean. I was vaguely aware of a verbal protest, then everything fell silent. I peeled open one eye and almost jumped when I saw Cas mere inches from my face. He was frowning at me, and my chest.

I wanted to make a joke about that, but...yeah.

_Let me…_

Cas held out his hand, then did the grossest thing I've ever seen.

And I've seen a lot.

He lined up each of his fingers to one of the holes made by the mutant pendant, and _pressed them into my chest_.

There was a collective gasp in the room (how many people were _in_ here, anyway?), and all I could do was open my mouth and hold my breath and stare into his eyes.

I felt a rush of...warmth and cold simultaneously enter my body; comfort and energy fused together in a shot. He hovered there for a second or two at the most, then slowly pulled his hand out as the skin sealed itself closed, leaving small, pink scars at each point.

I shuddered, staring at him in wonder.

Somehow, he managed to shrug without moving a muscle (which makes no sense, but I swear he did it). He rocked back on his heels and slowly stood, all with his eyes still locked on mine.

I gripped Dean's shirt tighter, and let him pull me onto his lap.

_Then_, I passed the fuck out.

**xxxxx**

_**A Few Days Later…**_

I woke feeling warm and comfortable. Rolling on my side, I discovered why that was - the body next to mine had an arm flung across me and was breathing slow and steady. Smiling, I curled towards it, and was rewarded with a squeeze and a low humming noise, the kind you make in your sleep that sounds as if you're acknowledging something.

Or someone.

My not-quite-awake mind, forgetting that the curse was over, believed Charles was next to me, so it instructed my mouth to mimic the noise and gently nuzzle his neck, complete with a soft nibble right below his ear.

The chuckle and physical flinching I received confused me.

The huge yawn and the hand shoving me away alarmed me.

The sleepy mumble, "Heyyyy...quit...tickles...", that totally was _not_ Charles, but _Dean_..._my brother_...was like a shot of adrenaline straight into my heart.

I yelped and pretty much leaped off the bed. Dean bolted awake, arms flailing, as if expecting a fight. "What the fuck!" he yelled, startling me even more as the reality of what I did sunk in.

I was tangled in the sheets, and Dean's frantic movements jerked them tighter around my legs. I lost my balance, banged my head against the end table that sat between Sam and Dean's beds, and ended up with my ass on the floor. As my legs slowly followed behind, I clutched my head and felt tears of pain, frustration and unbelieveable embarrassment trail down my face.

_How the fuck_ did I get in Dean's room, let alone his bed?

"_Christ_, Kate! What the fuck are you doing? Are you okay?" Dean scrambled out of bed and crouched in the small space between the beds to examine me.

Reflexively, I shrunk away, still trying to sort out what I just did and how it was fucking with my head. There wasn't much space to work with, so I ended up scooting until my back hit that stupid end table, surprising me yet again. A small cry escaped my lips as I curled into a ball, willing him to just go away and give me a minute.

_You_ try telling Dean Winchester to "go away for a minute" when you're bleeding on the floor of his bedroom.

"Hey...c'mon...move your hand so I can see - aw, shit, you're bleeding…"

My brain understood what he was doing and why. It's _Dean_. He's worried, I scared him, he's trying to help...I got it, I really did...but everything else overrode the logic...and I just panicked.

Doesn't matter that I can't remember how I got in here or that I _happily_ thought I was still with Charles (which may be also just as bad). _I just tried to make out with my brother._ And that shit was just _not_ okay.

"What's goin' on?"

"_*sigh*_ I dunno, Bobby. One minute we were sleeping, the next she freaked out and hit her head on the table."

I could hear the confusion in Dean's voice, so maybe he doesn't know what I did.

Still.

I took a shuddering breath and pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes, noting the trickle of blood trailing down the side of my face.

I felt Bobby slowly walk around Sam's bed...probably to get a better look at me huddled on the floor.

"Dean...go get some ice and the med kit, okay?"

"Bobby, she - "

"_Dean_. Go. Get. Ice. _Now_."

There was a huff, then reluctant shuffling out of the room. (Trust me - it was reluctant.)

I cracked one eye open and watched Bobby cautiously crouch in front of me, giving me space, but definitely close.

"Hey there, missy. What's goin' on?" He used his "everything's gonna be fine" voice, which almost made me laugh.

With a shaky hand, I wiped my eyes and nose and sighed. "I...ummm…" I cleared my throat a little and shifted a bit. My voice trembled, adding to this pathetic picture. "I, um, don't remember coming in here. I forgot where I was and...thought he was...and I sorta…" I made these lame hand gestures to help illustrate my story, which was obviously borderline incoherent. My voice just trailed off, and I thrust both hands in my hair. I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, steadying my heart beat and getting a grip on reality.

Bobby nodded his head slowly, as if he understood what I said. I don't really know if he did, but the action made me feel better, because I sure as fuck didn't want to explain it again...even though the first time wasn't really an explanation anyway.

"Okay, okay...I get it. You know what's what, now, though, right?"

I rolled my eyes up at him. "That's why I'm on the floor bleeding."

Bobby let out a soft grunt and nodded again. "Yeah. Lemme see your head..."

Sighing, I let go of my hair and leaned forward a bit, tucking my knees against my chest even though they were still wrapped in the sheets. Bobby gently probed and poked, making little noises the whole time.

"Alrighty. Not too bad, really. Don't think you need anything sewn, but I'm sure Dean'll wanna look himself." Bobby took my chin and lifted my head, making me look him in the eyes. "You okay with that?"

I swallowed and nodded. There really wasn't a way out of that. "Yeah...I'm...I'm fine...now. Just needed a minute for my brain to catch up to…" I waved my hand around. "...my brain. Yeah...it's all good, Bobby." I shut my mouth after that display of linguistics.

Bobby's eyebrow shot up, but he said nothing. He patted me on the knee, his eyes full of sympathy that made my stomach lurch a little. I liked being the Winchester in the background. I wasn't the best hunter, I wasn't the strongest fighter, I wasn't the smartest researcher. I was good, but _duh_, not as good as the rest of them. This whole fucking escapade put me in the spotlight, for all the wrong reasons, and I hated it.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and I took a second to close my eyes and take another deep breath.

"Hey Bobby - she okay? I have the kit…"

My eyes snapped open.

_Sam_.

"Yeah, son, she's fine. Just needs to get cleaned up and get some ice on her head." Bobby climbed to his feet and walked away, patting Sam on the shoulder as he left.

I warily watched my brother slowly approach, placing the med kit and an ice pack on his bed. Without a word, he opened the kit, took out some supplies, and sat on the floor near me.

He fiddled with a damp washcloth for a few seconds before making eye contact.

"Hey…" Winchester classic conversation starter.

"Hey…" I answered. "Is Dean unconscious?"

Sam chuckled. He knew what I meant. "No...he, uh, got a vibe that you didn't want him here. So…"

I thunked my head back against the table. Now I felt guilty. Today was shaping up to be a winner.

Sam shrugged with his eyebrows and began cleaning the cut, careful not to press too hard. "I know, disappointing, huh?"

_Oh, fuck._

I shook my head (carefully). "_Sam…_" I started in a warning tone.

He huffed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry. That was douchey of me. Here, take these." He handed over a couple pills and a bottle of water. I took them without a fight and he finished cleaning me up in silence.

When he finished, he made to get up, but I grabbed his hand, stopping him. Sam gave me a questioning look, which I answered with a lame version of his Eyes, and he sorta wilted. He sank to the ground, and held out his arms, which I crawled into as fast as I could, given the sheets still being tangled around my legs.

Sam chuckled and helped un-tangle me, allowing me to basically sit on his fucking lap like a five-year-old, my head tucked under his chin. After a minute, he grunted into my hair. "Okay, my ass is almost asleep and you're pressing on my bladder."

I sighed dramatically. "God, you suck at this." I detached myself and sat on the edge of his bed, watching him struggle to his feet.

"Yeah, well, that's why we have Dean." He sighed and carefully sat on Dean's bed, facing me. We were silent for a couple heartbeats. Then, "So tell me what the hell happened in here."

I started running my fingers through my hair, stopping when they hit the bandage. I made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "I was...dreaming of Charles. And...sorta thought Dean was him. So…"

Sam arched an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Please tell me you didn't touch his - "

"Jesus Christ, Sam! Would I still be in this house if I did that?" I stood quickly, totally embarrassed, and wobbled as the room spun a little.

Sam reached out to steady me. I shoved his hands away with a grimace and started pacing. He just watched me in silence, probably sorting through possible scenarios. "I don't think he knows you did anything...at least he didn't mention it...if that helps at all."

I snorted. "I suppose it helps, but it doesn't change that _I _know I did it."

He nodded and blew out a breath. "Okay, well, this isn't uncommon, right? For someone to have feelings for their kidnapper? What's it called...Stockholm Syndrome?"

I rolled my eyes and faced him. "Sam, it's not that. Listen, you guys are all walking around treating me like I just went through a traumatic experience. Charles didn't rape, beat, or abuse me in any way. My memories of all this are...are of being treated like a princess, for fuck's sake."

Sam's eyes hardened, and his mouth twitched. "You were paraded around half naked like some new pet of his."

"I know that, Sam! I'm not saying I wasn't his classy whore for two weeks." He sharply inhaled at that and opened his mouth to argue. I waved him silent. "I know, that was a crude way of putting it. But I know that's what I was. And yes, Sam, okay? We did...do it. But it was consensual, and - "

He jumped to his feet. "You weren't even you! How could you have given consent?"

I let out a growl of frustration. "I know that! Just...just listen! Please! I'm trying to explain how it _feels_, not what it _was_."

Sam started breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. After a few breaths, he nodded and sat back down, rubbing his hands on his thighs. "Okay..._okay_, I think I see your point."

I moved back to his bed and sat down facing him, hoping he'd keep listening and trying to understand. "I just...I'm pissed, and I'm a little freaked out, but honestly, other than the whole pendant digging into my chest thing, he never hurt me. So I'm just...I'm having a really hard time with this because…" I trailed off there because the ridiculousness of my argument was just hanging there in the room.

I knew it all sounded like a fucked up rationalization for not feeling more messed up by all that happened. But I was being honest.

Sam looked at me, his face softening. "So what you know of him is bad, but what you remember of him is good."

_Bingo_.

"Stanford wasn't a waste," was all I said.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Okay...I get it. I do. Just...you have to understand our side of this. We had to watch you with him for two weeks, and we couldn't do anything until we had a way to get you out of his spell." He wiped at his eyes real quick and took a shaky breath. "Dean was such a fucking mess. He - "

"He performed an awesome rescue and saved the girl. That's what he did."

We both swiveled to find Dean leaning in the doorway, his mouth curved in a wry smile that almost made it to his eyes.

"How much did you hear?" I demanded.

Dean shrugged and pushed himself off the door frame. He slowly walked around the bed and sat next to me. "Enough."

He rubbed his eyes and dragged that hand down his face, like he always does. We sat in silence for a minute, then I nudged him with my shoulder. "So...Dad said you guys spiked all my drinks, huh?"

Sam huffed a smile. "Yeah. Bobby found a potion recipe that was supposed to help break the spells that asshole had over you. It kept your 'waking up' off that pendant's radar."

I scrunched up my face, remembering the last day I was with Charles. "So...bartending, landscapers, even Adam was there." I glanced at Dean. "You just drove past me in the car. Dad didn't let you play?"

Sam bit his lip. Dean blushed and cleared his throat. "I, uh, got benched."

I raised an eyebrow, looking to Sam for confirmation. At Sam's nod, I uttered, "_Whoa_...what'd you do to piss Dad off?"

Dean let out a breath and rubbed the back off his neck, clearly uncomfortable. I looked expectantly at Sam, who swallowed then took a deep breath. "Dean was a little...enthusiastic...over your rescue, and, um, needed a time out."

Exasperated, Dean rolled his eyes. "I almost killed the fucker once we found you and it would've been bad because of that necklace thing and the spell he used. So. Yeah," he finished lamely.

Sam suppressed a smile and patted Dean's leg. "Hey...Dad did let you kill him when we were ready, right?"

Dean's eyes went flat. "Killing him once wasn't enough," he murmured.

Sam and I made a collective, "Oh..." And the room fell silent.

I leaned on Dean's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me just as Sam placed a hand on my knee. We just sat there together for a while.

**xxxxx**

That night I sat on Bobby's porch drinking _domestic beer_, thinking about what I revealed to Sam. I mean, yes, the memories were in conflict with what I knew, and that was a little difficult to sort out. But I was really pondering over how I behaved during that whole time. I was actually confident in being a woman.

This whole mess left me diving into who I was and what I wanted, topics that used to be off limits in my mind.

Now I can't stop thinking about them.

I rubbed the scars on my chest, touching each point, remembering that bizarre sensation when Cas stuck his hand inside my chest. I know I dreamt of my family at different times, but the angel's eyes were the clearest memory I had, right up until I heard his voice in my head. I just wasn't sure why.

_Do you wish to speak with me?_

Like that. No, _wait_, he was actually talking to me. My breath quickened and I hastily swallowed some beer. _Um...sure?_

I sighed. I was so much smoother under that spell.

I felt soft feathers on my cheek, then heard the now-familiar rustle as Castiel blinked into view. He stood facing me, in a dark t-shirt (oh my yum...a V-neck) and jeans. No coat.

Smiling, I arched an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. "You always comment on my attire, so I thought I'd try something different. Is this acceptable?"

Not sure if he was teasing me, I pretended to look him over carefully, trying to keep my thoughts in check. He looked fucking _hot_, and I felt my cheeks redden. Casually, I shrugged back. "It's fine, Cas."

He nodded seriously, and sat next to me on the swing. He stared straight ahead, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "I heard you calling earlier, but you were with your brothers, so I decided to wait a bit."

Frowning, I asked, "When did I call you?" Was this another thing I didn't remember?

Cas looked down. "In your sleep. I...heard you cry out. By the time I was able to respond, you found Dean, and were contentedly sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I called to him in my sleep? That was as bad as crawling in Dean's bed. Wasn't it? I mean...maybe?

Still avoiding eye contact, Cas continued. "You will sort through all this, Kate. I know there is some conflict in your mind, but you will come out stronger in the end. Perhaps...with better clarity as to who you are."

I played with the label on my beer bottle. "I hope so." Something occurred to me, so I turned a little towards him, prompting him to face me. "How did you find me? When I was...lost?"

He now looked straight into my eyes. I couldn't read his expression, but there was a depth to his eyes that threatened to swallow me whole. "You called to me for help."

I blinked at him, searching his face for any signs of mockery or joking. There was none. Swallowing hard, I murmured, "and you came for me."

In a low voice, he answered, "I always will."

Nodding slowly, I thought of how many times I dreamt of those eyes, and those wings, and that voice. Going out on a limb, I projected those thoughts to him. Granted, I held my breath afterwards, but I did it.

His eyes widened a bit as the images and thoughts hit him. His head tilted to the side as he contemplated what to do with all that information.

The more he stared thoughtfully, the more unnerved I became, so I nervously cleared my throat and took a really long pull off my beer. "Well, okay, thanks, Cas, for every - "

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine, soft and warm. Cautiously, he pulled away, his expression a mixture of wonder and shyness. I wanted more and was about to communicate that when his head tilted again, and his eyes shifted away from me, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. When his eyes returned to mine, his face was once again stoic. "Your father is looking for you."

And with that, he left.

My mouth opened to protest just as the front door squeaked open and Dad poked his head outside, eyes darting every which way, making sure I was safe. "Hey there...have a hunt nearby. Feeling up to it?"

Dad wasn't going to baby me (like Dean), or chat over coffee (like Sam), preferring to move forward and keep our eyes on the Demon or anything demon related. Helped him cope, really, and he knew I'd have all the warm-fuzzies with the boys anyway.

I briefly closed my eyes, and ran my tongue over my lips. The sensation of that kiss lingered pleasantly. Still. Evil was waiting to be purged, so I chugged the rest of my beer and nodded as I stood. "Yup. Dazzle me with the bad guys."

Dad chuckled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. He held the door open, securing it behind me as I passed him through the doorway.


End file.
